


Backseat of My Brother's 67 Chevy

by NaughtyPastryChef



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, Boys In Love, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Extended Scene, Fluff, Frottage, Insecure Dean, M/M, Missing Scene, Sappy, Sex in the Impala, Top Sam, hole petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/pseuds/NaughtyPastryChef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extended scene from "Baby". Dean's feeling proud of Sam's hookup until he hears that Sam tried to give that waitress his number. Uncharacteristically, he lets Sam force him to talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backseat of My Brother's 67 Chevy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin/gifts).



It wasn't till Sam admitted that he'd tried to give the waitress his number that Dean felt anything other than pride.

 

The chick had been hot, nicely formed and, hell, Sam banged her in their car. All the fucking in the world between them would never stop Dean from being proud of Sam's hookups.

 

Sometimes Sam wanted pussy; sometimes Dean wanted pussy. No big deal. Random hookups have always been fun. Pussy is always fun, and they both know their way around one. They’ve talked it over, it’s not a cause for jealousy. They both know who is gonna be there until the end and it ain't some waitress from an all night diner in the middle of nowhere.

 

So why did Dean hurt so bad? Why was Sam trying to talk him into wanting more? Why did either of them need more than what they already had?

 

Dean studied his dozing Sammy over the seatback from where he sat in the front. The vision of him laying in the backseat of their car usually soothed him, but calm eluded him this time.

 

When Sam's hazel, sunflower eyes opened and focused on him, it was too late to glance away or pretend he hadn't been looking.

 

"Dean, what is it?" The sleep roughened voice usually sent a thrill up Dean’s spine, but this time he felt hollow.

 

"Nothing, Sammy.”

 

"Bullshit jerk, what's up?"

 

Dean paused, trying not to visibly moon at the face he loved so much. "You really want all that "settling down" stuff? I mean, you deserve it, I've always said so. If you found someone... I wouldn't hold you back."

 

Dean could feel actual tears in the back of his throat as he forced the words out, but couldn't look at Sam as he delivered them. As a result, he missed bitchface #43 "damn you're stupid, it's a good thing you're pretty".

 

"Moron,” Sam huffed with a little smile. “I was talking about us. Settle down, stay in the bunker, take over for Bobby. The resources we have at our fingertips.... We shouldn't let them go to waste. Once we figure out how to get rid of the darkness... Wouldn't you want that?"

 

"Why'd you try and give the girl your number then, Sammy? If you want that with...me? What was that about?" Dean choked out. He still wasn't looking at Sam's face, and missed the big hand coming up and  wrapping around the back of his neck to yank him bodily into the backseat.

 

"Fucking ow!”

 

"Shut up jerk, and look at me," Sam laughed as Dean moved to make himself as comfortable as he could -- throwing a few more elbows and knees than he really needed to, of course.

Finally he was lined up with Sam, belly to belly and legs tangled in jeans that needed to be washed 3 days ago.

 

"I wasn't thinking,” Sam continued, “Dude, don't even try and tell me you've never felt... I dunno, mesmerized by sex. I've fuckin seen it. I never wanted her for more than the few hours she rode me in the car. You, you big doofus, I want you all the time. Even when your face is all swollen from taking one too many licks to the face and you reek cause you and I have been in the car for three days with no shower. Even when you wear those jean short shorts that you wore to wash the car the other day. Even when you're a knight of hell. All the time means all the time and forever means forever, Dean."

 

"You big girl. No chick flick moments,” Dean huffed in Sam's face even as his belly felt warm with everything his brother was saying.

 

"Okay fine, jerk, less chick flick.” Sam's eyes suddenly took on a dark gleam that sent a throb of desire shooting straight down to Dean's belly. “Her pussy could never compare to your ass. Your ass was made for my cock. Her mouth has nothing on yours and she couldn't even get me halfway in when you, you Dean, can get me all the way down your throat. She wouldn't rim me at all, let alone eat me out for hours like I'm a fucking gourmet meal. Her moans were too high pitched and ... Well, her tits were nice but your nipples are more sensitive than hers. You remember there first time I made you come just just playing with your nipples? Hmm?"

 

In fact, Dean remembered well, so did his body. His cock was pressing uncomfortably in the leg of his jeans as Sam went from "girl talking about feelings" to "porn star of my dreams" with no segue. He rolled his hips down into Sam's and they both moaned.

 

"That's what was missing with her. You. Fuck, c’mon big brother, let's rechristen the back seat,” Sam groaned out even as he slid a hand down the back of Dean’s dirty jeans and under the

waistband of his boxers to palm his ass. His middle finger pressed between Dean’s cheeks, the tip tapping dryly at the hole he found there.

 

Dean heaved a breath and buried his face in Sam's neck, kissing and licking and biting all of the skin he could get to without squirming from Sam's hold. "Tell me more,” he rasped.

 

"You wanna hear more, Dee? What do you wanna hear about, huh? How even when I jerk off I think about you? How even though I don't really get it, I love the way you wanna lick all the sweat off me before I shower? Wanna hear about the time we broke that motel bed in Vermont? Or how about the week after I pretended to be a yoga instructor? Fuck, you look so hot all bendy and pretzled up. I bet, if we tried real hard, I could fuck you and you could suck your own cock while we did it."

 

Embarrassingly, that was enough. The rough thrust of denim on his cock, the tap of Sam's finger on his dry hole, the filthy words spewing from Sam's mouth and filing his mind with such dirty images was enough and Dean was suddenly coming in his jeans. His whole body spasmed, and Sam just rocked him through it, crooning "I love you" into the ear that was just receiving the most delicious filth.

 

When he was finally able, Dean pulled away to catch Sam's eye again. Sam held his gaze with unwavering intensity. "Sexier than some waitress could ever hope to be,” he said earnestly, “Get it now?"

 

Rendered speechless, Dean nodded and did something he rarely did, initiated a soft, sweet kiss. A kiss that said "I love you" without him having to say the words that had caused him so much pain over the years.

 

But Sam is the only person that he loves. And the Impala is the only thing he loves.

 

"Forever means forever.... Bitch." Dean smiled as he pulled back from the kiss.

"All the time means all the time, jerk."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think! I know there's a ton of these floating around right now, I just needed to add in my opinion. To the lovely, awesome, amazing PUBLISHED AUTHORESS who betae'd this for me, *HUGS*, you're my favorite.


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